


The Genedar

by Orime



Series: Lumariae [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Depression, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23872591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orime/pseuds/Orime
Summary: A snippet of Lumariae's experiences on the Genedar, covering the time between leaving Argus and arriving at Draenor. It mostly passes in an indistinct haze of depression, but then she comes into contact with the Light for the first time when the Naaru speak to her directly. A powerful experience that will play no small role in shaping who she is to become.
Series: Lumariae [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720429
Kudos: 1





	1. The Bowls

Lumariae's eyes opened. She was lying curled on her side on the floor. She turned onto her back, staring expressionlessly at the ceiling until she heard the sounds of the morning meal being prepared in the next room. She pulled herself to her hooves and moved through to line up for her share of food. A recent stay at a new planet had yielded a small supply of edible meat, and so recent meals had been augmented with a few strips of the stuff dried into jerky. Bits and pieces of the ship's current stock were bundled into a small bowl and passed to her. She walked over to the corner of the room and quietly ate what she had been given, barely tasting it.

When she was done, she moved behind the counters and added her bowl to a rapidly accumulating pile. She took up a nearby cloth and soaked it in the little basin of water beside the pile, wringing it out until it was merely damp. They had to be sparing with the water they used for these kinds of tasks. If they didn't clean things, disease would run rampant throughout the ship and finish off the struggling Draenei people for good. But if they cleaned things too liberally they risked running out of water, which would kill them all just as surely.

Lumariae steadily and methodically made her way through the endlessly replenishing bowls before her, wiping them down as thoroughly as she could and transferring them to a new pile, ready to be used for the next meal. She continued until it was time for said meal, and after eating that quietly in her corner she returned to her station to clean some more.

Someone encroached upon her space to ask if she was getting on okay. She nodded silently, continuing to wipe the bowls and waiting for the person to leave. Then they asked if she needed any help. She shook her head, still avoiding eye contact. They reached out and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, which made her freeze up until the hand had been removed and the owner had finally left her in peace.

Few people tended to bother her these days. She had made a reputation for herself in her youth as a wilful child that would lash out unexpectedly at anyone and everyone. But the solitude suited her well, and her daily routine of waking and eating and washing and sleeping gave her something to do to help the minutes and hours and days trudge by.

She stopped again for an evening meal, taking only the time she needed to transfer it from the bowl into her system, and then returning to her task. She continued until there was nothing more left to clean, and then left the room wordlessly to curl up on her side back in her spot outside. She lay there motionless, staring dully at the wall in front of her until she eventually drifted off, waiting to repeat everything once more the next day. And the day after that. And the next again day.

−−−

Lumariae's eyes opened. She was lying curled on her side on the floor. She turned onto her back and tried her best to block out the sounds of commotion all around her. She pulled herself to her hooves and moved through to the kitchens, but nobody was there. She walked over to the pile of bowls still waiting to receive the morning meal, resting her hand on the top of one stack. She slowly patted her hand up and down a few times. People began shouting.

Her eyes widened as a song blossomed in her soul, exploding her world with light and colours and sounds and smells. A twinkly voice like the soft chimes of little bells emerged from the song, telling her to stay calm and to make her way to the ship's pods. She realised that tears were streaking down her face as she felt herself inhale, tasting oxygen, life!

The room around her was so finely detailed, her head swam trying to absorb it all. Her eyes wandered over the walls made of that strange blend of crystal and organic matter, and the basic counter in front of her which held the bowls! The bowls! There they were, simple and clean and round and waiting. She ran a finger down the side of the stack before her, exploring its uneven spine.

Her focus then shifted to the sound of many hooves clattering against the floor as everyone made their way to the pods, as the song had directed. She had hated the pods, she remembered, preferring to sleep on her patch of floor. But that all seemed distant and foolish to her now.

She followed the crowd as if in a dream, drinking in every detail of the space around her, properly seeing it all for the first time. A woman close to her with simple white robes on was chewing her bottom lip. A man on her other side was clutching a bag to his chest and muttering something in a voice that sounded deep and warm. The man next to him was holding the hand of a young girl, keeping her close. The new song within her shifted to include edges of sorrow, but remained just as beautiful as before.


	2. A New Start

The Genedar had crash landed on a new planet. People were congregating in the ship's shadow, organising their belongings and seeking out friends and loved ones. Lumariae watched all this with fascination from the edge of the gathering crowd. So many people with so many faces. And she didn't know a single one. No, that wasn't right. She knew the other kitchen staff. She didn't know them well by any means and had no idea what their names were, but she knew them. It didn't take long to track one down.

The man's eyes widened as she approached. He had a fantastic moustache. "You made it out okay! Is everything... I mean are you..."

He had a kind face. She smiled. He faltered and blinked a few times, confused. She supposed she hadn't done that much before.

"Do you think you can help out?" he asked, recovering. "The others are trying to help sort out the unclaimed belongings. Maybe there's something of yours there."

She doubted that, but she went to help anyway. She wondered how the others would react when they saw she could smile now.

−−−

She had helped out in the great flurry of activity, listening to descriptions of missing items and reuniting them with their owners where she could. Only a small pile now remained, so she was looking after that by herself while the others made themselves useful elsewhere. The change in her unnerved them, but she supposed she couldn't blame them. She was still getting to grips with it all herself. There was a world of sensory information and feelings all clamouring for her attention. Information that she'd somehow been unable or unwilling to experience until now. But then the Naaru had spoken to her.

She glanced over the last few bags and bundles left beside her, smiling at the array of shapes and colours. A blue pack kept drawing her gaze. It felt safe, familiar. She stooped down to pick it up, curious. One glimpse at its contents and her hands went limp, the bag tumbling out of her grasp and its items spilling across the ground. She stared down at the multi-lensed glasses before her and felt a coldness spread through her belly.

She had forgotten Almas. The man who had kidnapped her. The man who had saved her.

She scanned the crowd searching for his face. Was he too ashamed to approach her to get his possessions back? Or was he one of the many that hadn't made it this far.

She knelt down to bundle everything back into the bag and think of something else when she noticed a little pouch made of faded black cloth. It had a little bee stitched into the corner. She opened the pouch and tipped the little green stone into her hand, so much smaller than she remembered it. She clenched a fist around it and felt the rounded corners of the triangle dig into her palm. Memories of the hours spent carefully filing and polishing those corners spilled across her mind, along with memories of the man she had wanted to grow up to be just like.

She curled her legs beneath her and began hugging herself tightly. All these new senses and feelings, but she didn't want this one. She didn't want it.

A hand reached around her shoulders, pulling her in for an awkward hug. Someone was crouched beside her, balanced precariously on their hooves. They didn't say anything, for which Lumariae was grateful. She realised that she was crying, sobbing even. It was all a bit much.


End file.
